Prompts on the Journey

Mythically, where do I come from?
Who are my parents?
My ancestors?
My siblings?
With whom do I belong?

Write A Myth of Your Creativity

Have you ever written a myth of your creativity?
Recently I did. You might try writing one of your own.
Please feel free to post it to the blog.
And if you would like to become a member of the blog, email me.

Emily's Myth...
In the beginning she came into the world dancing on the fiery spray of a dying star. She came and she forgot. Not right away, because the air of earth was vibrant, there was love in her father's eyes and warmth in her mother's body. The invisible was but a heartbeat away.

She came to dance, but the dance changed. She came to sing, but the song changed. She forgot she was a song of Mystery and love. Except in private times when the world outside slipped; she flew back into the light, and the mind of the child was filled with the song of remembering.

Forgetfulness is a mean depression, a prison where the self is lost, cold and alone under a well-worn cloak promising comfort and warmth.

"You are safe in me." And called her, "Dear One."

This is a amazing video of women in western art through the ages...
Mesmerizing!


http://www.saatchi-gallery.co.uk/blogon/mtvideobox.php?video_id=78

Are you more than you think you are?

There is a very particular risk inherent in the creative process: when you take the journey inward, you discover that you are not who you think you are, or you are more than who you think you are. But sometimes these images reflected through the inner mirrors are so alien that they first appear ugly, even demonic and cause us to run. The trick is not to run, but to persevere. The image will shift, the fear will dissolve and the stranger seen through the creative mirror will become familiar and quite wonderful. These unknown parts of us will guide us through unseen doors, into unexpected landscapes.

A poem by Juan Ramon Jimenez speaks wonderfully to this point.

I Am Not I

I am not I.
I am walking beside me
whom I do not see,
whom at times I manage to visit
and at other times manage to forget.
The one who forgives sweet when I hate,
the one who takes a walk when I am indoors,
the one who remains silent when I talk,
and the one who will remain when I die.

How do we discover these who walk beside us and tend to be who we are not? How do we learn to lift the smoke screen?

First of all, I'd like to suggest that these ones do not walk beside us, but these unseen, unexplored voices live inside us.

There are different ways of finding this inner self which some call the dark or shadow side, hidden self or true self. Whatever you call them they are parts of our selves that have been secluded, usually in childhood or adolescence, when it seemed somehow dangerous to put them out into the world. We learn very early in life to pass judgements on those parts of ourselves that don't meet with acceptance and, in so doing, we doom ourselves to live through a very small part of the totality of self while casting other parts of self into the shadows, where we keep them hidden, silenced in the dark.

Carl Jung said that the unconscious is a great friend, guide and advisor to the conscious and that psychic wholeness comes from bringing the unconscious and the conscious into balance. He believed the primary way of doing this is through dreams. I believe that this communication is also part and parcel of the creative journey. The trick is in breaking through the stranglehold that the rational, conscious mind, the "I" we think we are, has on us.

As far as I am concerned, this is the most difficult part of the journey, quieting the inner critic so that we can go unfettered, without judgment and criticism, into the great sea of the unconscious. This breaking through is also the hook -- or perhaps it is more accurate to say that when we finally break through into the creative unconscious, we are hooked. For there we find the hidden selves who hold so much of our deep yearnings and explosive drive. They hold talents, wisdom and knowledge we never dreamed we had. For the fiction writer, our hidden, disowned selves often come through as powerhouse characters -- if we let them! In so many ways, these hidden selves are partners in the dance of creativity.